About this Story
Title
: Doctor's Office?

Summary: He wondered if maybe he would have been better off seeing a qualified specialist.

Notes: Was going to be combined with the next chapter, but I like where this ended. Not so much action this time, but hopefully the humour makes up for that.
I would also like to mention that I am ecstatic that you like your gift spacey. Even if I forgot to mention that it is a gift in the first chapter.


He awoke to the sight of a cold gray ceiling. He might have believed he were still in the store room had it not been for the sounds. Papers shuffling alternated with clicking on a computer keyboard, and these intermingled with the humming of machinery and the occasional heavy footsteps from above. This place was certainly more lively than where he last remembered being. His thoughts were cut off by a throbbing in his temples and he let out a quiet moan in response. Instinctively he attempted to raise his hand to massage the area, but quickly found his arm to be trapped, held firmly in place across his stomach.

The clicking stopped and a soft yet professional voice drifted over to him, "You don't want to do that." Turning his head toward the sound, a quizzical mumble passed his lips. "You have an Acromioclavicular Dislocation." The explanation did nothing for him through the, drug-induced fog in his mind. She must have seen something in his expression and was feeling benevolent enough to clarify for him. "A Separated Shoulder." He nodded, his mouth making a small "o" of understanding. At that she turned on her heel and began to walk away. Before leaving his line of sight she sent him a glare that said very clearly, no words needed, that he was to stay put.

Not daring to disobey the silent order, he did his best to explore his surroundings as much as possible with eyes alone. It didn't take him much to piece together that he was, in fact, in the basement of the professor's house. One of a few areas within the dwelling that one or both scientists used as a laboratory. It wasn't too long before he heard footsteps returning, one pair all but completely drowned out by the other, and the little neechan came into view, followed closely by the inventor. His expression of genuine concern was somehow comforting, especially in contrast to the clinical detachment he saw in the small girl's face. It was in moments like this that he had no trouble associating the apparent child with Sherry, member of the Crows and creator of a poison that on occasion only works half way.

With their approach Heiji turned his head so he could keep his eyes on the kinder visage of the older man. Bending over Heiji he explained that they needed to run a few tests, just a check-up really, while helping the teen up into a seated position. As the sheets slipped away, bundling around his hips, he became aware of the fact that aside from the sling holding his arm firmly in one place, he was wearing nothing from the waist up. That 'nothing' included, he glanced around in search of the missing item, but when he twisted to look behind him he was interrupted by a dull throb from his midsection. A large hand on his shoulder brought his attention around to Agasa's questioning eyes, "What's the matter Heiji-kun?"

The professor's tone soothed him, but only slightly, "Omamori." The one word explanation seemed to be enough as he received a small nod before the man left his side and he began to hear the rustling of fabric nearby. His thoughts were directed front and center by a pair of fingers on his chin, and without further warning there was a penlight being shined in his eyes each in turn. He hadn't even registered the chemist moving the stool into place before him in order to perform her work from a more level vantage point. By the time she had removed a thermometer from his ear and was recording the readout he found his protective charm spinning slowly, as it hung from its string before him. He flashed a grateful smile the professor's way as he took the bag and clutched it in his fist possessively.

Ai worked through the various tests methodically, muttering her findings as she jotted notes onto a clipboard. So far he'd gagged on a tongue depressor, had his face pinched somewhat roughly, and endured her fondling of his upper arm while he did a few bicep curls with a light weight. When asked she had claimed that it was to test the working state of his muscles but, knowing her true age, he had to wonder whether she wasn't enjoying herself just a little too much. What was that look for? Was that amusement in her eyes? When she was slipping a cuff around his arm, fastening it with velcro to keep it in place, he finally voiced a thought that had been nagging at him for a while, "How'd I wind up here anyway?"

The professor having returned to his activities upstairs by then had left only the miniature physician available to answer, "You should thank Kudo-kun for that, sit still."She had to hand it to her, she was definitely efficient, not pausing once as she gave her answer, though her bedside manner could use some work. Her lack of further elaboration resigned him to the fact that he would have to ask someone else about it if he wanted any real answers, likely Kudo as she'd said. "What was that?" He blinked at the voice stupidly, had he said something? And when did she get across the room? Sure enough, she was returning the blood pressure monitor to her desk drawer and retrieving her next torture implement, er, testing device. At the sight of the syringe something caught in his throat and he began coughing roughly. He wasn't afraid of needles, he was about as much a fan of them as anyone else but, well shit, her hand barely wrapped half way around the thing.

As the coughing came to an end, the force causing his ribs to ache, he realized that she was climbing up to face him once more. The implement, the sight of which had sent him into the fit to begin with, was nowhere to be seen. He watched as she blithely adjusted the perfectly ordinary stethoscope in her ears and brought the end up to tap on it lightly, leaving him to wonder whether he had actually seen the thing or if his mind had been playing tricks on him. And there was that look again. Yup, there was definitely amusement there. Satisfied that the device was working properly she placed one hand on his shoulder and with the other she pressed the metallic pad to his chest, "Breathe deeply." She ordered, he complied. To his credit, he never once complained about the chill as the process was repeated, him breathing on command, her nodding and moving on. He was too distracted by the fact that she seemed to be laughing inwardly at some secret joke.

It had something to do with the monster needle. It must have. What else could it be? If he really had seen it, then he was sure that she'd pulled it out just to get s rise out of him. Why then? She could have been only doing it for the reaction, but he got the feeling it was something more, a punishment maybe? But what for? Had he said something wrong? He'd barely said anything at all? Maybe he'd been thinking something offensive. No, that was crazy. She'd have to be able to read his mind and that 'ear for thought' thing was supposed to be really rare. Then again, the same could be said for the shrinking side-effect of that pill she had created, so would it really be so hard to believe?

Noticing that he hadn't heard her voice for a little while now he glanced around, quickly finding her standing in front of him, but on the floor. Seeing that she had gained his attention she offered a beaker that she'd been holding she pointed towards the small washroom nearby, once again communicating everything she needed to without words. Now that he had the chance he returned his Omamori to its proper place around his neck, and felt better just for the familiar weight on his chest. With some effort he pushed himself to his feet and, taking the container, crossed the room in the direction indicated. Just as he was pulling the door closed behind him the girl's voice caught up to him, "You've been muttering nonstop for a while now. It's really quite entertaining." He didn't open that door again for several minutes.

Once he had composed himself enough to brave her company he learned that she had returned her stool to its corner and was busily typing away at her computer once more. Looking around at the click of the door opening, she had indicated where he should leave the, now filled, beaker before he returned to bed. She slid from her seat taking from the desktop, a glass of water and a plastic cup that she had prepared while he had been, well, let's face facts here people, he was hiding. She placed the glass on a table beside the bed and handed him the cup, inside of which he found two innocent looking little red and white capsules. Knowing Kudo's story though, he wasn't about to trust any pills she gave him so easily without, at least, knowing what they were first. She must have noticed his hesitation, "Pain killers I've been developing. Don't worry, they're fairly safe." He looked at her sceptically for a moment before finally giving in and downing them along with half the glass of water. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd been until that moment, and the cool liquid felt wonderful sloshing down his throat and nearly making him forget his apprehension over the medication.

Nodding with satisfaction she returned to her desk and began rummaging through one of the drawers. "Oops." She exclaimed calmly after a moment. "These are the pain killers I meant to give you." She pulled out a small, unmarked, pill bottle for him to see. Wait, if she hadn't given him pain killers, than what did he just take? As if in answer to his question, was he thinking out loud again, she continued. "That must have been the trial of apotoxin I've been recreating for testing." He nearly choked on his water, sputtering and staring at her with eyes bugged out. He only just barely kept from losing his seat entirely. "Just kidding!" she all but sang, actually sounding like the child she appeared to be for once.

He clutched his chest, torn between relief that it had been a joke, and annoyance that she would make a joke like that in the first place. He settled for scowling at her back as she re-took her seat at the computer. "Y' really enjoy tormentin' people don't ya?"

Not altering her attention she responded, "A lady never reveals her secrets."

"Isn' tha' s'posed ta be magicians?"

"Them too."

He might have argued further, but that pillow was looking more and more inviting with each passing second.